Silence is a Curse
by GokaiYellow
Summary: One-shot. Thomas feels a hand exploring his body and it belongs to a certain Keeper. Inspired by a drawing by hielorei on Tumblr.


He would have preferred to sleep in the Deadheads, alone, instead of packed into the Homestead with several Gladers he didn't know. But the threat of becoming Griever bait didn't sound appealing to him. He found himself in the same room as Newt who was given the bed, seeing as he had a bad leg. Meanwhile, he, Thomas, was forced to sleep on the hard floor wedged between several bodies of different Gladers who were asleep or trying to stay alert for what would possibly happen.

He had his eyes closed but sleep wouldn't come. He could hear his breaths coming out, tense and shaky, more gasps than actual breathing. The walls didn't close tonight and his skin prickled at the thought of those fleshy, spiky blobs coming into the Glade while they slept. Chuck was in another room of the Homestead and he felt a twinge of guilt for not trying to stay with him on a night like this. Sure the shank was obnoxious from time to time for getting him into trouble or for hanging around him every minute possible but he was…a friend if anything.

Thomas settled his back onto the thick blanket underneath him and he looked up at the ceiling.

_Tom_? a girl's voice called in his mind. _Are you still awake?_

The whole telepathy deal was still eerie for him to handle, but it was something to help him take his mind off of the Grievers for a moment. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, concentrating on the voice coming from the girl locked in the Slammer outside the Homestead.

_I am_, Thomas thought. _Feel like a sitting duck just waiting for the Grievers to come and get us. What about you Teresa?_

_I…_, Teresa paused. _I'm scared Tom. There's no way you can break away and keep me company?_

_You're safe in there Teresa_, Thomas replied. _Safer than all of us._ Thomas stifled a yawn after that last thought and he felt the sweet salvation of sleep starting to drag him under.

_I'll, I'll talk to you tomorrow_, Thomas thought. His mind began to drift as sleep weighed his eyes down, Teresa's thoughts fading away. Maybe he shouldn't have allowed sleep to claim him so soon but then again, he was still a little uneasy about Teresa's presence and her connection to him prior to the Glade. Even worse, he could still see Alby's fiery gaze, Newt's disapproving look with his lips pressed into a taut line, and Minho's look of disbelief when they discovered him talking to Teresa in the Deadheads, moments after she woke up. Just when he was starting to be accepted in the Glade, he felt like an outsider again.

It was a couple of hours later when he felt someone jostle his hip, which made him roll away from the movement. The shank next to him was probably having nightmares. Just when he had put space between him and the movement to his right, he felt a firm body press against his side.

Thomas didn't dare open his eyes and felt his heartbeat a little faster. He felt the hem of his shirt lifting away from his pants. He could feel the warm air on his bare skin as his shirt was pulled up to the top of his belly button.

_Oh man_, Thomas thought. _They're already here – one's got me!_ He tried to will his body to move, to fight back against the hand that was trailing south, but he was frozen in fear. He heard the zipper on his pants being slid down and he squeezed his eyes shut tighter. This was it – a Griever was going to kill him slowly in his sleep and he was helpless. But instead of feeling a cold mechanical hand, he felt a warm, calloused one sliding into his Runnie-undies. Wait, what the?

Lips pressed against the side of his neck and Thomas pried his eyes open. His vision made out black spikes, tan skin, and a familiar set of muscled arms.

"Min?" he whispered.

Minho moved his lips from Thomas's neck and shushed him before shooting him a smirk. "Yeah it's me shuck-face," Minho said.

"But wha-"

"Shhh, slim yourself nice and easy Greenie," Minho cut him off. "Try to keep quiet."

Thomas took a look at where Minho's hand was and felt his face flare up. "What the shuck are you doing?" he hissed at the older boy.

Minho rubbed his fingertips above the base of Thomas's length and allowed his thumb to stroke the base up and down. Thomas bit his tongue and forced himself to breathe through his nose. Was he outta his shuck-mind? This was hardly the time to fool around, especially with the threat of the Grievers coming for all of them.

Thomas closed his eyes and tried to focus on breathing and ignoring the hand that was stroking him above his shaft. Heat began to build below his stomach and he felt a sensation that he had never felt in the Glade, but obviously he had an idea of what it was. Maybe this was all in his head.

Minho chuckled before swiping a quick lick across Thomas's throat, taking this time to slip his hand lower. The other boy's eyes fluttered open at the wetness on his throat and he twisted his head to look Minho in the eye. No, this was real. Minho's pupils darkened, growing larger as he leaned closer to Thomas's face, leaving their lips less than an inch and half away from each other.

"Paying you back for saving my shuck-butt a couple of days ago," Minho breathed. Fingers wrapped around Thomas's length and yanked hard, making the new Runner gasp a strained keening sound through his teeth before opening his mouth to gasp for air.

Thomas closed his eyes and counted down from three in his head before meeting Minho's lustful ones with a fierce intensity in his own. He gritted his teeth and tried to push the thought of where Minho's hand was at the moment as he propped himself up on an elbow.

"Min," he hissed. "Are you outta your shucking mind? This…this isn't really the –" Thomas blinked as Minho swiftly cut off his words with a strong kiss. A hot tongue tickled Thomas's lips and parted them, slipping into his mouth as the hand gripped his length below. Thomas moaned as he slid back to the floor, his head resting on his left elbow. Minho pulled away after a few moments and smirked as Thomas's face burned a vivid shade of red.

"I'm not blind Greenie," he said as he hovered over Thomas's lips. "Don't pretend you weren't checkin' out these guns over here." Minho waggled his eyebrows at Thomas, who had to try to suppress a laugh at the act. Minho leaned closer so their lips were barely an inch or two away from Thomas's. "Listen shuck-face, if we're gonna die tonight, I'd rather not die a virgin. I've seen the looks and it's really obvious you like me. Unless you're all hot now for your weird shuck girlfriend or something."

Thomas lifted his head slightly off the ground and he felt his ears burn at the mention of Teresa. He would be lying if he didn't say that the tall, snarky Asian boy caught his eye on the first day he came up the Box.

"Quit calling me Greenie Min," Thomas hissed. "The girl's the Greenie now – call her that. And she's not my girlfriend!"

Minho chuckled at the sight of his fellow Runner, who was worked up, emotionally and sexually at the moment. "Good that," Minho said. "Now try to be quiet, will ya?" He pressed his lips to Thomas's once more as he stroked and pulled hard on the throbbing member in Thomas's Runnie-undies. He grinned against Thomas's lips when he felt the younger boy's hips jerk up, trying to thrust into his hand. "Good that Thomas," he breathed in between kisses. "Wait for me – don't cum yet."

Meanwhile, Newt jerked one eye open when he heard a strangled sound in the room. He whipped his head in the direction of the boarded-up window, watching it intently for a few moments. When nothing happened, Newt shook his head and mumbled, "Gettin' a wee bit paranoid over nothing." He had his eyes closed for a few seconds when he heard short, heavy breaths and an occasional "Aaaaahhhh." Newt's eyes flew open again and he looked back to the window, only to see there was nothing happening, save for a few shanks trying to sleep under the window.

"Bloody…" Newt muttered as he rumpled his hair while lying back down. He was probably dreaming – everyone seemed to be fine…for now. His eyes were closed for less than a second when he heard a low voice gasp, "Mi-Min, oh shhhu–" Newt rolled over on his side and looked over the edge of the bed where he heard the voice. His eyes made out the familiar black, spiky hair and the broad, strong back of the Keeper of the Runners and he saw a second set of legs lying next to him.

Newt sat up and craned his neck to get a better look. He saw Minho leaning over a pale face and his eyes trailed south to where Minho's hand was. Newt felt his ears burn at the sight and he quickly lay back in the bed on his back, wishing he could get the sight out of his head.

"I'm, I'm gon-" Newt heard the boy moan. Color flooded Newt's cheeks when he heard the voice. It was Tommy's voice, which meant that he and Minho were –

"Shhh, you're gonna cum when I tell you to," Minho hissed back.

Newt shut his eyes tightly and used his hands to block out the sounds of his two fellow Gladers reaching their peak. He gritted his teeth and muttered, "I bloody hate you Minho."


End file.
